Good girl, Amanda. She thought-half hoped-he might come pat her curls, or scratch her neck. Then she blushed at her wayward thoughts. Where was that tea tray anyway?
Rex thought Amanda looked exquisite, her hair shining, her skin glowing with health. Her eyes had lost the purple shadows beneath them, her face had almost lost the gaunt sharpness. In just the last few days she had gained a bit of rounded softness to the bones at her neck above her gown's collar and at her narrow wrists. Lud knew Verity must have added a few pounds now that she did not have an entire estate to patrol. The unmannered beast had almost shoved him over, which would have made him look like a clumsy cripple to Amanda.
"Down, Verity."
The dog obediently sat near Daniel, as if it knew food was coming soon. Rex made his careful way to a seat in the parlor, concealing his limp as much as possible, knowing Amanda was watching. Then he chided himself for foolish vanity and put his leg up on the footstool she thoughtfully slid over. He thanked her and waited for the tea to come, then watched her pour it out with the elegance he had come to expect in her graceful movements. A man could get used to such domesticity.
As usual, Daniel complained about the dearth of raspberry tarts, macaroons, or poppy seed cakes. He made do with toast fingers and jam.
Dodd fussed with the silverware and the serviettes, obviously hoping to hear what news the cousins brought, but Rex dismissed him, sending the man for heartier fare for his cousin. After all, Daniel had not eaten for at least an hour.
When the butler had gone, and Daniel had shut the door firmly behind him, they could finally discuss the day's discoveries. Rex mentioned the notebook and the money in the globe, now in the bank waiting for Edwin Hawley. He explained his theory of an organized crime cartel, although Daniel still clung to the idea of other sons and daughters. Rex explained about needing a motive that might lead to a suspect, and recited the initials to her from memory. Other than Breverton, Amanda had no guesses as to identities. Sir Frederick never spoke to her about his affairs or interests or acquaintances.
Daniel wiped a dab of jam from his chin. "The fellow had deuced few confidantes, it seems."
"So we are no further along to finding his murderer?"
"A bit further," Rex told her. "But not close." Then he set his cup aside. He hated to be hard with Amanda, but he had to know. "Do you understand what would happen if you fled the country?"
"You mean if I ran away? I expect everyone would believe me guilty, if they do not already."
"They would be certain of it. But they would also put up reward posters with your picture and send bounty hunters to track you down, for the rest of your life. You would never be free, not really, no matter how far you ran. There are other aspects you might not have considered, since they affect you less. If you took flight, you see, I would be found guilty of reneging on my vows to produce you for trial. Sir Nigel has sworn he will prosecute me if he is denied his day in court, although I doubt it would come to that. I do not care about that worm. I do care about my honor."
Amanda bit her lip. How could she swear not to flee, if the alternative was hanging or deportation or life on the prison hulks? What sane person would not run away if the alternative was inevitable death? "I understand that a gentleman's word is his bond."
"For my family, especially."
Daniel nodded around a mouthful of toast. He fed a slice to the dog, then said, "Very honorable, the Royce name, for centuries back."
"We have always defended the innocent," Rex added, "no matter the consequences. We are already mistrusted and feared for our, ah, beliefs. My father lives as a recluse because of his love of the truth. Since the murder of a baronet has become so sensational, so would your escape from justice. The Crown would demand satisfaction, urged on by Sir Nigel, I do not doubt. The earldom could be attainted, which would kill my father. Lady Royce, your godmother, would suffer also, for harboring a killer."
"I… I do not understand why you are saying all of this. I thought you trusted me. Have I not said how grateful I am? Do you not realize that you, and you, Mr. Stamfield, are the only ones who have stepped forward to help, the only ones who believe me."
Amanda was upset and hurt. Last night he'd said he liked her. Now he was treating her like an actual criminal. She looked from Rex to Daniel, to find both of them staring intently at her. "Have you found something that leads you to disbelieve in my innocence, in my word to you, in my own honor?"
Lord Rexford was the one to ask the question: "Will you tell me about the man you met at night?"
She could not meet their similar eyes, Rex's so vivid a blue, Daniel's a bit paler, but both with dark rings surrounding the irises. "No."
Rex tossed his toast to the dog. "Then how can I trust you?"
She laughed, without humor. "You can trust me because I am at the mercy of the courts, and you. You know I am reliant on you for everything, your rescue, your investigation." She picked up a sliver of toast. "For my very food. My stepfamily-what there is of it-has not replied to my pleas. Flee? I have nowhere to go, and no wherewithal to get there."
Rex stood with effort, his leg gone stiff, and poured the jewels into her lap. "Now you do."
Chapter Eighteen
Amanda held up the ruby pendant and its matching earrings, then the diamonds. "But these are my mother's. She is wearing this necklace in the portrait I have. I do not understand."
"Your man of business was holding them for you."
"But Sir Frederick claimed they had been sold. To pay for my mother's nursing, he said."
"He lied, most likely so you would not have them, either, or make awkward inquiries of the solicitor."
"But how?" She spread out the sapphire set, and thought the deep blue looked very much like the color of Rex's eyes, but without his tiny flecks of silver.
He was looking over the treasure in her lap, as if assessing its value. "Your mother realized she had made a bad bargain, according to the solicitor. Her widow's portion and settlements from your father were long gone, but she still had her jewelry. The ones here were hers by right, belonging to no estate or entailment. They were hers to leave to her daughter in her will, which is what she decided to do, instead of giving them to you outright. She made the lawyer take the jewels away for safekeeping before she died, before Sir Frederick could get his greedy hands on them. The solicitor swears her will was ironclad, witnessed and filed with the authorities, which was how he kept the gems from your stepfather."
"And from me."
"You were, what, seventeen when your mother died? Sir Frederick would have had them out of your hands and to the pawn shop before you could count them. Your mother knew that. She meant her bequest to come to you when you turned twenty-five, or when you wed."
"When Sir Frederick could not keep me from leaving his household and his guardianship. But you say the man gave them to you now, for me. Does he not think I will live the three years until my twenty-fifth birthday?"
Rex sat back down again, looking at his cousin, debating what to say. "He, ah, thought you could use the jewelry to finance an escape."
"Oh. In case you cannot find proof of my innocence. Now I see why you were so concerned." She did not deny the possibility of bolting, but went back to sorting through the necklaces and bracelets, putting matching sets together on the table beside her chair, next to her forgotten teacup. She started to sniffle as she raised each glittering piece to the light, recalling her mother going off to this ball or that dinner party wearing the beautiful baubles. She remembered being allowed to play with her mother's jewel box as a small girl, thinking she had never seen such glitter, such glory. They were tokens of her father's affection, her mother had always said, although her favorite gift from Lord Carville was Amanda herself. Amanda would have better someday, her mother had promised.